


a better touch

by scribespirare



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Canon verse, Consensual Underage Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Height difference, M/M, Master/Servant, PWP, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Public Groping, Scratching, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribespirare/pseuds/scribespirare
Summary: Sometimes, Sebastian has a hard time keeping his hands off his Lord in public. Other times, he doesn't have to stop himself.
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 6
Kudos: 246





	a better touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sempiternalailurophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempiternalailurophile/gifts).



> whats up i finally got around to making them boink! enjoy

Despite the considerable winter chill clinging to the window panes, the ballroom itself is almost unbearably stuffy.

At least, to humans it probably is. Sebastian is quite comfortable himself; nothing on Earth can compare to the heat of where he’d spawned.

But humans are not nearly so resilient, especially the young Earl. His mouth is pulled down into a pouty mou and he continuously tugs at the collar of his dress shirt despite how many time Sebastian tells him not to. There’s sweat beading along his hairline, sliding near-soundlessly down the pale curve of his throat. It takes a considerable amount of Sebastian’s impeccable control to stop himself from leaning down and licking it up.

“Would you stop staring at me like that?” Ciel hisses without turning to acknowledge Sebastian. “Stop worrying about the state of my cravat and do something about this damnable heat.” He mutters something else about useless demons and then purposefully steps into a crowd of people moving across the ballroom so that Sebastian can’t respond or follow him.

Sebastian sighs softly, a habit he’s picked up from being around humans so much, and goes to do his Lord’s bidding.

The party was already in full swing when they’d arrived, and the ballroom now is quite nearly stuffed with attendees. Why the hosts, one Lord and Lady Harson, would light nearly every fireplace in the house for such an event is beyond Sebastian. In the heat the scents of perfume and sweat are amplified horribly.

Still, even through the cacophony of voices and odor, Sebastian can pinpoint his Lord. Dark and glossy, a polished diamond of the deepest black; he smells like the night sky, like pain and fresh blood on dew-soaked grass, like oh so many things that makes Sebastian’s mouth water and his insides itch with the need to tear apart his human shell and unleash himself.

Ciel’s voice, audible to Sebastian even across the room, is tender with youth and all the more alluring for the power it wields. When he’s not pretending to be a child of course, mingling with the adults of the party with a demure expression and a practiced smile. Marking himself as harmless, easily approached. Or taken advantage of.

Sebastian turns himself back to his task, mundane as it may be. They’re not here on orders from the Queen and so the evening is expected to be calm. Every once in a while Ciel feels the need to show his face among the aristocracy, simply to keep the rumors of his elusive nature alive. The ton is flighty and easily distracted after all; they would quickly forget the Phantomhive name if not regularly reminded of its existence.

Ten minutes later and Sebastian has covertly managed to open several strategically chosen windows across the house, creating a current for the hot air to rise up and out on, and leaving room behind for a wintery chill. All done up in yards upon yards of the finest fabric, no one in the ballroom will be bothered by a slight breeze.

Finding his way back to Ciel’s side is a touch more difficult, if only because he’s bound by the constraints of polite society with so many watching eyes around. Which means not drawing attention to himself, a mere butler, while also navigating the crowded floor.

When he finds Ciel again, his Lord is directing a brittle smile up at an older, unfamiliar woman. Her hand is on the back of his neck, squeezing tightly, and Sebastian can tell the child is seconds from snapping at her. It’s in the curve of his bunched shoulders, the fire in his one visible eye. And as much as Sebastian loves watching Ciel unleash that fire, he’d rather not have to smooth over the ruffled feathers such a scene would cause.

Sebastian gently touches his Lord’s shoulder, and much of the tension drains from Ciel’s body as he looks up at him. “Yes?” he says, loud enough for the woman to hear him. Quietly, without his mouth moving overly much, he hisses, “Get her the hell off of me."

“Young Master, Her Grace is asking around for your presence,” Sebastian tells him, his voice all faux apology at having to interrupt his Lord.

It works. The woman’s touch falls away, even if she fans herself vigorously despite the room being ten degrees cooler, and stares at Sebastian down her nose. Even she can’t keep Ciel’s attention over that of a Duchess. “Awful uppity for a servant, isn’t he,” she says, clearly displeased.

“No,” is Ciel’s immediate response, and much like before he walks off before the woman can even muster a response through her surprise. Sebastian sketches her a quick bow out of courtesy and then goes to follow his master.

“To your left, twenty degrees, Her Grace Emily Thomson,” Sebastian murmurs once he’s in the familiar position just behind Ciel’s right shoulder. She hadn’t actually asked for Ciel’s company, but is happy enough to greet him anyways, taking both of his hands in hers and leaning in to kiss his cheeks.

Ciel grits his teeth through a smile and takes an inconspicuous step back towards Sebastian.

The demon meanwhile is staring at the nape of Ciel’s neck, right where the first woman had grabbed him. There’s no visible mark from her touch, but Sebastian can smell her stench clinging to the sensitive flesh.

In the few months since they’d lasted attended such a party, the ton has apparently become overly fond of physical gestures. After nearly being scruffed, followed by Emily kissing his cheeks, Ciel is prodded and grazed and grabbed regularly over the next hour. At first Sebastian finds it somewhat amusing; Ciel gets closer and closer to him as the night goes on, knowing that Sebastian can extract him from the situation quickly, and his expression grows darker and more frustrated.

But after the fifth or so casual touch, even Sebastian is starting to have enough. Ciel’s perfect dark scent, so enticing to Sebastian, is starting to get lost under the body order and perfume of strangers. It sours his smell and something possessive surges in Sebastian’s breast at the loss.

If Ciel is going to smell of anyone it should be _him_.

It’s when an unfamiliar man casually slides a hand down Ciel’s spine that Sebastian nearly loses it. The human is red in the face with inebriation, and had made his move the moment Sebastian had stepped away to find his Lord something to drink. Judging by the expression on Ciel’s face when Sebastian returns, the man definitely continued to let that hand of his wander.

Briefly, Sebastian considers removing it for him.

Instead he passes his Lord a champagne flute filled with water and then very purposefully places himself behind Ciel. The wandering hand retreats quickly with Sebastian’s placid, threatening smile directed the man’s way, and he scurries off into the crowd with a hurried excuse.

Ciel’s shoulders droop and Sebastian can hear him sigh loudly. “How much longer do we have to be here? I’m half tempted to have you kill the lot of them.”

“As wonderful as that sounds,” Sebastian says, placing a calming hand on Ciel’s shoulder, “the night is still far too young to leave without causing some rumors.”

Ciel tips his glass back and Sebastian laments the fact that from this position he can’t see the movement of his slender throat as he swallows. “Are we not here to start rumors?” he grumbles, pulling the flute away from his face.

“Not those kinds of rumors,” Sebastian chides, and finally allows himself to do something about the drunken, rancid scent clinging to Ciel’s clothing. Ciel tenses slightly at the hand smoothing down his spine, inconspicuous in the crowded room.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you smell better,” Sebastian replies calmly. His hand has reached Ciel’s waist, fingers playing along the small of his back.

“You and your delicate sensibilities,” is the only huffed response he gets. Sebstian takes this as tacit permission to continue, though he wouldn’t have stopped regardless. Not unless he was ordered to. Especially when yet another man approaches them and claps Ciel on the arm, touch lingering just a little too long, trailing down to the crook of his elbow.

Sebastian pulls one glove off with his teeth and stuffs it in a pocket, feeling too possessive now to let the slight go. Their difference in height makes it so that Sebastian can only reach so far, but he rucks up the back of of Ciel’s coat and slides his hand as far down as he can. _Inside_ Ciel’s trousers. What better way to reclaim him from wandering, presumptuous touches?

Ciel jerks against him, a subtle show of surprise at the contact. But his expression stays neutral and he continues his conversation with the newest man uninterrupted.

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth curls up on one side. His evening suddenly seems much more entertaining as he considers everything Ciel might let him get away with. 

Ciel’s skin is warm against Sebastian’s hand, the body heat of a child. Sebastian has always appreciated how slender he is, how smooth and young. A perfect combination of innocent and tainted. The curve of his ass is gentle under Sebastian’s questing fingers, and the demon can feel how his own comparatively cooler touch is causing goosebumps and shivers.

By the time Sebastian has another hand on Ciel’s hip, drawing him back into his grasp, the most recent conversation partner has wandered away.

“Unhand me,” is the first thing Ciel hisses, looking back and up over his shoulder at Sebastian.

Sebastian merely smiles, squeezing gently at the flesh he’s captured, and leans down. Ostensibly it looks like a butler speaking to his Lord. Informing him of this or that goings on. But in reality Sebastian murmurs, “No,” and draws his tongue gently along Ciel’s nape, lapping up the lingering stench of perfume until all he can taste is himself and the crisp youth of Ciel’s skin.

“Impertinent bastard,” Ciel says in return, but it comes out slightly garbled, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“You could always give me an order,” Sebastian reminds him, straightening up again. Still nobody is looking at them overlong, have not noticed the flush rising to Ciel’s cheeks, his quickened breathing, or the hands of his butler sliding along his body.

And why should they suspect anything? Ciel has barely begun to feel the effects of puberty, is naive and innocent to the ways of the world. Or rather, the image he has cultivated to the public is. Who would ever dream that the young Lord would allow himself to be defiled so easily? And by a servant no less.

Sebastian smirks as Ciel trembles against him, his silence volumes. Of course he wouldn’t tell Sebastian to stop. Not when he wants this as badly as the demon himself does.

Some unfortunate souls get to see Ciel as he really is, when he’s decided that he no longer wants to play by society’s rules. They see his conniving tendencies, his intelligence, his absolute ruthlessness, and the way he wields Sebastian with the precision of a well honed saber.

He is no more a naive, innocent youth than Sebastian is a human.

But not even Ciel’s enemies see this side of him. The one only Sebastian can bring out. This bratty, desperate slip of a boy, arching beautifully under Sebastian’s every touch, like his body is an instrument and the demon a talented musician.

“I think perhaps you should retire,” Sebastian murmurs. “Just to catch your breath. Once you’re feeling better, we can make the rounds and give your apologies for leaving so early.”

“Damn you, Sebastian,” is the only response he receives. If Sebastian weren’t trying to avoid as much attention as possible he’d laugh.

With reluctance, Sebastian pulls his hands back to decent territory, if only to help guide Ciel out of the main ballroom. Their escape is easy enough, and already being familiar with the floor plan of the house, Sebastian knows exactly where to go.

The coat closet is small, and cramped, and obviously not the main one used for guests. But there’s a dim electric light that Sebastian flips on, and enough room for him to finally, finally sink his claws into his Lord.

“You’re the absolute worst,” Ciel says the moment the door is closed behind them. “No better than a dog, pawing at me all night just because you’re jealous.” His gaze is accusatory, chin lifted in defiance, but he’s still flushed in the face and his one visible pupil is dilated.

“You wound me,” Sebastian murmurs, reaching out to gently untie Ciel’s eyepatch. “Comparing me to such a lowly animal.” The black fabric falls away, easily tossed aside, and Sebastian’s entire being seems to thrum at the sight of his mark upon the eye. A stake, a claim of ownership.

Ciel is _his_.

“I should wound you further for your impertinence,” his Lord says, and takes a step closer. “For your arrogance in thinking you can touch me however you please.” Another step brings them so close that Ciel has to crane his neck back just to maintain eye contact.

“Do it again.”

Sebastian lifts Ciel without any effort whatsoever, pleased when small arms tangle around his neck. Their mouths meet and Sebastian pulls the slighter body tight against him, hands roaming over fine fabric.

At first, Ciel had been reticent about their explorations together, despite the fact that he’d been the one who insisted on them. Who very flatly demanded that Sebastian kiss him, touch him, indulge in all the things the demon had imagined since the very first night they had met.

What can he say, he’d been captivated from the very beginning by that tiny, broken, blood-soaked boy, his eyes blazing with all the fury and rage of a god. It had been easy to bend his knee to that. To know that one day his Lord would taste oh so sweet, his glassy, fragrant scent popping on Sebastian’s tongue like the finest fruit.

And Sebastian had been right. His Lord _is_ sweet, his mouth hot and insistent on the demon’s, the scrape of his teeth demanding more. Gone are the days when he’d approached Sebastian with a blank expression, of hiding his face and the sounds thrumming in his throat.

Sebastian had liked that uncharacteristic shyness too, but he likes this much better. Ciel writhing against him, desperate, moaning loud enough that it surely carries through the door and out into the hall. A perfect, tiny whore, all of Sebastian’s own creation.

Ciel breaks the kiss with a gasp, his brow furrowed and lips, bitten red and shining wet, pulled down into a serious frown. “You couldn’t wait to get your hands on bare skin in the crowd. What’s taking you so long now, demon?”

“Perhaps I simply wish to savor you,” Sebastian says easily, and can’t hide his smile at the way it makes Ciel roll his eyes.

“Savor me when we’re not hiding out in a damn coat closet. Touch me. _Now_.” The last word rumbles with power, and Sebastian’s mark flashes briefly in Ciel’s eye.

Sebastian sucks in a sharp, unneeded breath at the display of power. “Yes, my Lord,” he murmurs, and turns so he pin Ciel against the closed door. It gives him enough leverage that he can strip Ciel easily, or at least get rid of the more obstructive pieces of clothing. Shoes, trousers, jacket, underwear. All meet an undignified end on the floor at Sebastian’s feet despite the care with which he’d first put them on Ciel.

Sebastian is too busy unbuttoning Ciel’s shirt so that he can kiss and suck bruises into his collarbones to care. Thin fingers tangle in Sebastian’s hair, and Ciel’s head hits the wood of the door as he tosses it back, moaning his pleasure. He’s always been sensitive.

With the human sufficiently distracted, Sebastian lets his hands travel down the spanse of his narrow back, grabbing a cheek in each palm when he reaches Ciel’s ass. He only lets go to take off his second glove and fetch the small bottle kept in one of his many pockets. What kind of butler would he be if he wasn’t prepared for any and every situation ?

The lubricant is warm from resting against Sebastian’s body, and the demon wastes no time in spreading it on his fingers and pressing the tip of one inside his Lord. Ciel gasps at the intrusion and arches, fingers tightening in Sebastian’s hair.

“A little warning would be appreciated,” he hisses, breathless.

Sebastian laughs against his throat, scraping his teeth against the pale flesh to make it jump. “You like when it hurts.”

In retaliation Ciel slips one hand under Sebastian’s collar and claws at his shoulders and the back of his neck. “So do you,” he hisses. He’s always been fond of scratching and biting, leaving his own mark behind on the demon, and Sebastian has certainly never complained. He even prevents his body from healing the marks sometimes, just to make them last longer.

Sebastian presses his finger deeper, reveling in the tight, grasping heat of Ciel’s body. After so long of them doing this he opens easily, demanding a second and third finger when Sebastian doesn’t move fast enough for his tastes.

The demon complies, of course. But he also presses a smirk against Ciel’s jaw. “My, someone’s impatient today,” he says.

Ciel digs his claws in again, and thumps a foot against Sebastian’s hip, the best he can do when suspended above the ground. “Maybe if you weren’t such an awful tease!”

Sebastian makes a noise of consideration and adjusts his hand so that he press his fingertips against Ciel’s prostate. It makes the human choke on a small, pleasured noise, his body arching briefly. “I think perhaps you just liked the thrill,” Sebastian muses. “Being in such a crowded place while I touched you, knowing that any moment you might be discovered for the slut that you are.”

Ciel’s eyes flash with anger, and he’s so beautiful in that moment that Sebastian has to pause to admire him: all stretched out, relying on the demon to hold him up, bare from the waist down but with his cravat undone around his neck, shirt half-open and sliding silky smooth off his pale torso, and of course the beautiful doll-like face, all contorted in indignation and flushed with arousal.

Sebastian’s never seen anyone more alluring in his entire long, long life.

“Call me that again and see what happens,” the human warns, but his underdeveloped cock is hard and leaking against his stomach. It twitches every time Sebastian targets his prostate.

Sebastian smiles at him, all teeth, and pulls his fingers free. “Oh, but you are a slut, my Lord. Look at you, letting a mere servant take you apart in the middle of a ton gathering. What would your peers think?”

It takes only a moment for Sebastian to undo his own trousers and pull himself free. When he’d first crafted this body, this human shell, he hadn’t bothered with some of the minor details like genitals. He hadn’t thought they’d be necessary except perhaps in specific circumstances, and he’s never had any interest in human sexuality before now. That hadn’t lasted long with Ciel; his smell, his body, his haughty personality and the vulnerability of his core, everything about him is attractive to the demon.

So Sebastian had crafted a cock for himself. It had been too big for Ciel to handle comfortably at first, but practice has eased any and all strain. He presses up into the human now with almost no resistance and Ciel throws his head back with a cry.

Ciel is all velvet heat around him, so tight that Sebastian groans himself on that first long thrust, not stopping until he’s buried completely inside the human. _His_ human. _His_ Lord.

“See?” he says, voice coming out with a growled edge to it. “Arching for me, begging me to fuck you. And all the while someone could be right outside the door, listening to your voice. Do you think they’d be able to tell that you’re just a child, as filthy as you sound?”

Ciel huffs and grinds his hips down into Sebastian, fucking himself on Sebastian’s cock. “And I’m the slut? Listen to you, getting off on the idea me being underage,” he growls, breathless and with his eyes half-closed, like he simply can’t stand the pressure of Sebastian inside him. “Maybe you’re the exhibitionist. Maybe you want to get caught molesting a child. Or maybe you’re just a possessive, asshole demon who can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching me.”

Sebastian can feel the way his lip curls back from his teeth at the reminder. All those hands, sliding over Ciel’s lithe body like they had any right. When Sebastian has staked the entirety of Ciel’s being for himself.

Ciel smirks at him, knowing that he’s hit his mark, and Sebastian thrusts up into him to wipe the expression off his face. From there he can no longer control himself, fucking up into the human rhythmically, hands roaming flushed, smooth skin. Ciel pulls at his hair and finds as much purchase as he can with his nails, leaving behind long, bright red scratch marks. When Sebastian shifts his hips to grind purposefully against his prostate, Ciel lunges forward and bites the demon’s throat with the viciousness of an animal.

Sebastian throws his head and groans, those small teeth digging into him and bringing blood to the surface quickly. It will be incredibly difficult to hide later, but he can’t imagine not getting to keep the mark. He already knows he’ll dig his nails into it, long after Ciel has fallen asleep tonight, and bring himself off to the memory of clinging hands and Ciel’s bright, shining scent in his nose.

“So you are jealous then?” Ciel says, though the words are stuttered out between thrusts as each one knocks the breath from his chest. His lips are purposefully grazing the wound he left behind on Sebastian, and the demon can’t help how he claws at Ciel’s back in return.

“Of course I am,” Sebastian growls as he gets a hand around Ciel’s throat so he can press him back against the door. He looks down at the human, at his glazed expression and the open mouth, bitten raw and cherry red. “You are _mine_. To eat, to serve, to enjoy in whatever way I please.”

Those luscious lips fall open on a whine and Ciel arches up into him, needy and desperate. “Their hands felt awful,” he gasps, reaching up to try and brace himself against the door. The wood is rattling loudly in its frame under the force of Sebastian’s thrusts. “Disgusting. Nobody should touch me but you.”

Sebastian’s entire body shudders at the words, and his pace falters, heat licking up his spine as his orgasm approaches. “I’ll cut their hands off if they try it again,” he promises, an empty promise for sure, but true enough in the heat of the moment. Sebastian would kill the entire world right then if it meant keeping what was his.

Ciel goes taught all at once, eyes fluttering closed, a picture of perfect debauchery and hedonism as he comes across his own stomach. His mouth is open on a soundless cry, hair in disarray from Sebastian’s hands, and he himself can’t help but tumble over the edge as well. He fucks up into his human and stills, muscles trembling with tension as pleasure races through him.

After the noise of their fucking, wet obscene noises, the tacky sound of lips catching on lips, the rattling of the door in its frame, the sudden silence seems loud. It’s just them, breathing in the humid, sex-scented air and coming down from their highs. Even the party, as huge as it is, sounds muffled and a world over.

Mismatched eyes open slowly, Ciel’s tiny chest shuddering with his breath. But the first words out of his mouth are, disdainfully, “Did you just come inside me?”

Sebastian blinks down at him in surprise, his afterglow slowing his thoughts, and realizes that he probably isn’t going to get to enjoy said afterglow. “Yes?”

Cherry red lips pucker and the star-like eyes narrow into a glare. “And how, exactly, are you planning on cleaning that up? Need I remind you that we’re in a stranger’s _coat closet.”_

The Harsons certainly aren’t strangers, but Sebastian knows when to pick his battles and decides not to mention that little fact. “A highly underused coat closet,” the demon says, and readjusts their position so that he can reach back and snag a bit of fabric in his hand. It comes easily enough when he tugs it off the hanger, an out of date piece of brown, supbar fabric, probably belonging to a lower servant or a guest long gone. Its scent is musty and stale.

Ciel eyes the jacket with contempt. “You are not about to clean me with that.”

Sebastian raises a pointed brow at him. He doesn’t mind the idea of the human clenching down, trying to keep Sebastian’s cum inside himself as they leave. Sebastian will be able to smell it, will be able to tell the moment Ciel fails and it smears down the insides of his thighs, defiling him further.

Ciel must be able to tell what he’s imagining he swats ineffectually at his butler. “Just make it quick,” he hedges, and then scowls when Sebastian drops the jacket on the ground instead. “What-”

“As if I wouldn’t be prepared,” Sebastian chides, and pulls a clean handkerchief from one of his pockets.

Ciel is too loose and relaxed after his orgasm to throw much of a fit over the joke, but he still glares Sebastian down as he cleans them up. “Why do I put up with you?”

There are lots of ways Sebastian could answer that question, most of them truthful. But Sebastian just smiles at him and leans down to brush a brief, lingering kiss against his lips. After the passion and desperation they’d just experienced, the light touch makes Ciel shiver all over.

“Because I’m one hell of a butler.”

Ciel’s eyes slit open from where they’d fallen closed during the kiss. “I hate you.”

The demon simply smiles and finally sets Ciel down. It takes the human a moment to find his feet, his balance slow to return as he stretches the kinks out of his legs and arms. Once he’s steady Sebastian begins the task of putting him back to order.

Dressing and undressing Ciel has always been one of Sebastian’s favorite tasks. There’s a certain amount of delight in getting to touch the human in such an innocent, normal way, something sensual about sliding his hands over the small body for such a mundane purpose.

Ciel stares down at him as he does it, expression closed off, and doesn’t comment. The last thing to put to rights is the eyepatch, Sebastian tying it into place with deft fingers. He can’t help but linger once he’s down though, trailing his fingers down Ciel’s cheek, enjoying the supple flesh. The flush has drained from Ciel’s face but Sebastian knows he could bring it back in only a moment if he wished to.

“Are you done?” Ciel finally asks, and takes a step back from him. “Put your gloves on. I won’t have you out of uniform when we return.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Sebastian says, and does as he is bid.

Once they’re both presentable, Sebastian eases the door open soundlessly and peers out into the hallway. The distant sounds of the party grow louder but he can see nobody nearby. It will give them the perfect opportunity to sneak back among the crowd, unnoticed.

When the demon apparently takes too long, Ciel pushes past him without a word, forever the noble brat. Sebastian hides a smile and falls into place behind his Lord. Their footsteps are loud at first, but quickly become drowned out as they approach the ballroom, laughter and voices and the tinkling of champagne flutes drifting on the air.

They’ve almost rounded the last corner when Ciel stops suddenly. Curious, Sebastian stops as well.

There’s a brief pause, and then Ciel cocks his head and peers back at Sebastian over his shoulder. “Have fun trying to hide that bite mark,” he says, all coy smile and laughing blue eye.

Sebastian slaps a hand over his neck and curses. 

**Author's Note:**

> obligatory [tumblr](https://scribespirare.tumblr.com/) plug! also, i have a few other sebaciel fics posted here if you enjoyed this one =3


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